


Glory and Gore

by RamonaDecember



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamonaDecember/pseuds/RamonaDecember
Summary: There comes a point when the encounters can no longer be called chance, where the love can no longer be called fleeting.a collection of geraskier drabbles/ficlets/etc.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fills from [me](ramonadecember.tumblr.com) on tumblr.  
> links back to the original post imbedded in the name of the requestor at the beginning of each chapter.  
> C:  
> titled after the Lorde song.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt gets some personal grooming assistance and Jaskier gets a tidbit of information about the witcher he's not sure he needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—”  
> request by [boyphowdy](https://ramonadecember.tumblr.com/post/190991150168/your-hair-keeps-falling-into-your-eyes-do-you)

“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that?”

Geralt grunted his response at Jaskier, ineffectually pushing strands of hair that had come loose from its tie out of his eyes.

“Here, let me just—"

“Jaskier.” Geralt snagged the bard’s wrist as he reached out to fix the mess himself, but he wasn’t quick enough in wrapping fingers around the second before Jaskier had tugged the tie from his hair, sending more hair falling in his face and around his shoulders. “ _Jaskier_.” More of a warning this time.

Jaskier just clucked his tongue. “Now, this won’t do. Let me fix it, Geralt.”

Maybe Geralt realized that he had bigger, _actual_ battles to fight than this, or maybe he realized somewhere deep down that he already let Jaskier handle most of the finer aspects of his personal grooming, so this might as well be added to the list, but either way, he released Jaskier and tried not to grumbled too much as Jaskier beamed at him and began to run his fingers—maybe a little too indulgently—through his hair to try to work out some of the tangles before gathering the strands back again.

More than that, Geralt tried not to focus on the way the Jaskier’s face scrunched or the way the tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration. Concentration which was broken by a grunt from Geralt as Jaskier’s fingers hit a snag in his hair and he sighed out, “What? Big, bad witcher can’t stand to have his hair pulled a little?”

It was a testament to how long Jaskier had known Geralt, how much time he’d devoted to studying ever little micro-expression of his, that Jaskier even noticed the otherwise imperceptible way Geralt’s eyes briefly flickered away. Jaskier’s eyebrows raised, his mouth shaping into a small ‘oh,’ and it was an even bigger testament to his control that his face didn’t flush.

Geralt pointedly cleared his throat. “On with it, bard.”

“ _There_. Now was that so bad?” Jaskier asked as he finished. “Couldn’t have you running off to fight beasts like that, you’d have tripped and impale yourself on your own sword before you even get a swing in. I might have even missed you. Or at least the coin that songs of your continued adventures would have brought in.”

Mostly, Geralt just glared, but Jaskier was fairly certain he saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth that belied something else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you have to ask yourself if it's worth it to keep trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This isn't a goodbye."  
> request by [boyphowdy](https://ramonadecember.tumblr.com/post/612970183699611648/i-am-once-again-asking-for-a-geralt-jaskier-fic)

_"This isn’t a goodbye,”_ Jaskier told himself, and not for the first time that day. Not for the first time in his course of knowing Geralt, in general. Geralt and him had always only traveled in short burst, having their little adventure and then going their separate ways. Most of the time it was amicably, but this also wouldn’t be the first time they’d parted after a fight—Cintra was a shining example of that.

As they trudged back down the mountain, though—and wasn’t that awkward, Jaskier receiving the reaming of his life and then having to _inflict his company_ on everyone, Geralt in particular, as they took the one path leading them back down—it felt different than any other time.

There was no break to the surly attitude Geralt always chose to affect, and if anything he was even icier than usual. Jaskier usually had a way of getting under his skin anyway, finding a crack and chipping away at it until he got some sort of reaction, even if it was one that was only noticeable to him with all his time spent studying Geralt, that they would be okay.

On more than one occasion, Jaskier caught Geralt throwing looks his way, but every time their eyes would catch, the expression on the witcher’s face would shift to something that cut right through Jaskier, stopping him cold the few times he did open his mouth to try to drop some clever barb or observation. Jaskier found himself not caring to make the attempt anymore.

Would anyone have appreciated his wit, Jaskier would have questioned whether some scary sorceress—not naming names—had stuck them in a time loop, because the descent seemed to be taking twice as long, and each moment was only making him feel like the _burden_ that Geralt had made him out to be. He had half a mind to stomp his way back into town all on his own, but even his pride had to take a backseat to the fact that all he had to defend himself with was his lute, and he would throw himself head first into danger empty handed before he risked his instrument.

Jaskier watched Geralt repack Roach’s saddlebags with haste once they got back, the muscle in his jaw tensing more and more, Jaskier’s lingering do nothing to help, but Jaskier couldn’t make himself walk away. He watched Geralt leave too, as he often did, feeling ever the maiden waving their love off to war, wondering if they would ever return. This time, Geralt didn’t spare a glance for him as he rode off and Jaskier felt his stomach drop.

It wasn’t a goodbye, no, he was sure of it… but for the first time, Jaskier thought that maybe it should be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe Jaskier is a little insecure, but maybe Geralt needs to realize that some things need to be explicit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”  
> request by [anonymous](https://ramonadecember.tumblr.com/post/613239494786891776/jaskiergeralt-angst-with-70-insecurejaskier)

Jaskier wasn’t sure he could pinpoint the exact moment it happened. The romantic in him wanted to say that it was _love at first sight_ , that when he had seen Geralt brooding alone in the corner while he’d been performing, he’d known that was it, that they would spend the rest of their lives gravitating back to each other because it was ‘meant to be.’ The part of Jaskier that knew when to take his head out of the clouds knew that it really wasn’t one moment, but a collection of them. 

They had been traveling together here and there for, what… decades now? That gave Jaskier plenty of time to fall head over heels for this witcher. It was hard not to once one learned that Geralt ‘we’re not friends’ of Rivia wasn’t nearly as surly and foreboding as he made himself out to be. 

It was in simple things, like the way Geralt cared for Roach, making sure she had everything needed before tending to himself, carrying on conversations with her and giving _Jaskier_ looks like he was the strange one when he’d raise an eyebrow at the pair. It was in the was in the way he would always try to talk his way out of a situation before coming to blows, even though he pretended it was only because people weren’t worth his time—or getting kicked out of an inn they’d already paid for. It was in the way Geralt would grumble and complain about it to no end, but would still go out of his way to help someone, be it humoring an elderly woman from town to look for her lost relative, or accepting less coin than he usually would for a job from a town that was clearly struggling. And there was the time that a child had thrown her arms around Geralt’s legs in thanks and the witcher had barely hesitated before giving her a stiff but still affectionate pat on the head before she ran off.

It all came together to make true the fact that Jaskier, unequivocally, loved Geralt.

Not that anything much came of it. Jaskier thought he was fairly obvious about that truth, not bothering to conceal dreamy looks, making as much physical contact as Geralt would allow until he was near throwing himself at the witcher, laying out every plan as a _we_ or _us_ situation. Geralt did just about everything in his power not to take the bait, but Jaskier had always had a way of getting under his skin. 

Which is why right now wasn’t the first time the Jaskier found himself being kissed by Geralt, his face in both of the witcher’s hands, tilted back so that Geralt could better snake his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth, kissing him hard and deep until all the breath left the bard’s lungs. When Geralt finally pulled back, Jaskier hadn’t even stopped panting before he was accusing, “You’re leaving again.” No question. Geralt only ever kissed him like that for one reason, and that was as an apology, one that Jaskier only ever took to be something to humor him, make sure Geralt led him along enough that Jaskier would come crawling back next time he popped into the bard’s life. 

“Jaskier…” There was very actual ire to what was meant to be a warning not to make an issue of it. This wasn’t new, this would always be the way things went.

It wouldn’t be Jaskier if he didn’t give at least a little token pout about it, though, and he’d blame it on the long week he’d had of stuffy faculty events and students who never listened that made him step up the theatrics just a little bit more than usual. Geralt wasn’t one for placation or platitudes, but he did remind that, “I always come back.” Or Jaskier found him, or they stumbled into each other somewhere along the way, but the important part was that they always ended up back together again.

“I haven’t the slightest idea why,” Jaskier sniffed, knowing he was being bratty and purposefully obtuse. 

Geralt remained most unimpressed by Jaskier with his hands on his hips and his nose in the air, letting his own hands come to rest on Jaskier’s waist to rag him in closer. “After everything we’ve been through—” countless curse and creatures and run ins with the crown, “—you still don’t think that I love you?” 

The realization had admittedly initially crept up on Geralt, catching him quite unaware. Geralt would be the first to confess that he was resistant to the notion at first, shoving it down deep with the claim that it was to protect Jaskier—nothing good ever came to those who associated with witchers—and not to protect his own heart. After all, he watched how freely Jaskier would give away a piece of his heart to anyone who caught his eye, how who he wished to bed, to _love_ changed as frequently as his whims. Geralt wouldn’t have to admit how much it would hurt to be tossed aside if he never admitted just how much he cared for his bard. 

But the idea had sunk its claws in, dragged him down, and while that almost made it sound unpleasant, it wasn’t. Geralt had gone willingly. He loved Jaskier, and he thought the bard knew, he thought he’d made it clear in just about everything he did.

Jaskier just blinked at him, waiting for the telltale sign that Geralt was messing with him—the barest hint of a smirk or a bemused glint in his eye—but it never came. Geralt asked it so bluntly, like it was something Jaskier should have known, and maybe he very well should have, maybe his ignorance was willful. 

“What do you think has been going on here all this time?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier felt even more like a fool.

It was no coincidence that Geralt was there, there was no reason for him to drop in at Oxenfurt where Jaskier had been lecturing that past handful of years other than because he wanted to see the— _his_ —bard. No monsters, no shady dealings, he just missed Jaskier.

Geralt had even shown him just how much the evening after he’d arrived, near dragging Jaskier off somewhere private as soon as he was able. Jaskier still didn’t dare deign to call it _love _when Geralt sank into him, or any time prior that he had either. He saw himself as... a convenience for Geralt at best, something easy and familiar and nothing more. Why sift through the _local talent _when there was someone willing and wanting just waiting for him. But if Jaskier took even a moment to analyze their situation, he knew it was more than mere accessibility. The way Geralt touched him, the marks he left across Jaskier’s skin, they spoke of possession and knowledge and intimacy. They spoke of _more_.____

____Jaskier threw his arms around Geralt’s neck. “How was I supposed to know?” Jaskier questioned, but it was hard to put any bite into it. “It’s not as if you’ve ever said it.”_ _ _ _

____“I thought it was obvious.” Geralt shrugged._ _ _ _

____Jaskier would have been more indignant had that not been the most Geralt-esque response that could have been given. He saved the speech he was already putting together regarding _using one’s words_ for another time, choosing instead to pull Geralt down into another kiss._ _ _ _


End file.
